


Home Again

by Salustra



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salustra/pseuds/Salustra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY: Spike comes to Sunnydale to tempt his Sire. <br/>SPOILERS: (AU Buffy Season 1)<br/>CONTENT: slash,rough sex, bloodplay, implied het.<br/>DISCLAIMER: We adore playing with the pretties, but we’re just having fun.  No money made, don’t sue us!  I don’t own anything from ME… though I really wish I could. Just having a little fun, guys. (or, in more formal language-  <br/><b>Copyright Disclaimer</b> I do not own any characters, products or services depicted in this story which you recognize. Original characters/characterization and plot are mine. Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel The Series characters are OOC and I cite section 107 of the US copyright clause on 'fair use' to be found <a href="http://www.copyright.gov/fls/fl102.html"><b>HERE</b> </a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Again

Fading back into the shadows of the club, Angel watches Buffy rush over to her friends. He's done his bit for the night, passed on the most recent information that he's gathered on the Master's movements while avoiding Buffy's questions about Darla. 

He's tired, the encounter last week with his sire really rattled his nerves, and even Buffy's burgeoning adoration isn't enough to soothe them. Unable, and unwilling, to deal with the seething mass of stupid teenagers in the Bronze, Angel works his way around to the exit. 

Within a few minutes he's entering his apartment building, climbing wearily up the stairs. Another side effect of spending so much time around sweaty, oblivious youth is the way it makes his eyeteeth itch, reminding him that bagged blood really isn't just the same. 

Outside the door to his apartment, he pulls up short at the feel of family inside. He feels a simultaneous pang of pain at how weak the blood bond is that he didn't sense it before, and dread at the thought of facing Darla again. 

Bracing himself he storms inside. "I've told you Darla..." His words trail off as he stumbles to a stop. 

Inside is not the family member he was expecting.  Draped almost carelessly over his bed is an all-too-familiar face and body, though he had black hair the last time Angel saw him, not blond.  There is a leather duster and a black T-shirt sitting on a chair next to the bed, along with a pair of Doc Martens.  The man in the bed is clad only in a tight-fitting pair of jeans and a lazy, sensual smile.  "Fancy meeting you here, then, Sire." 

"Spike?" Angel chokes out his name, flabbergasted. 

“Yeah.” Spike chuckles.  " Nice t'know you still recognize me."  He stretches, languidly, muscles rippling under pale skin.  "Love the clothes.  But you always were fashionable." 

The other vampire doesn't take in his words, he's too busy trying to drag his eyes away from all that pale skin on display - and trying to control his cock's reaction. 

Spike rests his cheek on a crooked arm, still looking over, taking Angel in.  Angel, he's been told, not Angelus.  He'd had a nasty temper fit when he found out, finally, about the soul his Sire had been carrying for a hundred years.  But he's over that, now, and just hopes he can still tempt his Sire like he did before. "You disappeared," he says.  "But when I found out you were here, I just had to come visit." 

"Er...what?" Angel shakes himself and runs the last minute or so back through his mind. "Oh, well, yeah, uh..." Gods he's stuttering again - so much for the mysterious vampire routine. Why is it Spike and Darla always do this to him? Alternatively piss him off, confuse him, or send him into incoherency? 

Spike strokes a hand slowly down over his own chest, his belly, teasing around his waistband with a little wicked grin.  "So, anything I can do for you, Sire?  It's been a very long time." 

His eyes following the movement, Angel nods, "It has..." Shaking himself again, he only just stops himself from taking a step - whether forwards or backwards he doesn't know. "No! No, I'm fine thanks. It's, er, nice of you to drop by but, um, you don't have to stay..." 

"You kicking me out of your bed, Sire?"  Spike asks, licking his lips. 

"Are you in it?" As soon as he's said it, Angel wants to smack himself on the forehead. Spike suppresses the urge to chuckle.  It takes all his determination not to laugh at his Sire's befuddled behavior.  But the knowledge that it means he's probably caught him off guard helps.  

Spike smiles again, rolling over onto his belly and rubbing against the sheets.  "Yes.  I'm in your bed.  And I have no intention of getting out anytime soon.  It's a very comfortable bed."  

"You shouldn't be here." Angel says in a strangled voice, eyes on Spike's arse. 

"Probably not.  But then I've never been all that well-behaved then, have I?"  Spike raises his ass just a bit.  "You could always spank me." Angel nearly swallows his tongue at the suggestion. Spike keeps his ass raised a moment, then settles back down again.  "No spanking then?"

"No." Angel forces out, shaking his head. 

"So what would you like to do with me?" 

"N...nothing?" 

"Mmm, somehow I don't think that's true." Spike rolls back over and looks up at Angel.  

"You shouldn't be here." Angel says again. 

"Then throw me out.  But short of that I'm not leaving."  Spike's expression get a little stubborn, his voice firm.  

Forcing himself to turn away, Angel slips off his jacket as he walks to the wardrobe to hang it up. "There's no reason for you to stay." Spike lets his gaze travel over Angel's back, visualizing the body underneath the clothes.  

His voice is a little husky as he responds, "I'm looking at a pretty good reason right now." 

Closing the door of the wardrobe, Angel rests his forehead against the wood. "Why are you here Spike?" 

"I thought I was being fairly sodding obvious about it." 

"But why?" Angel asks, almost but not quite whining. 

"Because."  Spike's voice drops.  "Because I think about you every bloody night.  Because I miss the feel of your hands on me."  There's a little rawness there.  He and Angelus had been fighting, Spike trying to assert himself, become a vampire in his own right before Angelus disappeared.  But they'd always ended up tangled in the sheets sooner or later.  

Shivering, Angel sighs painfully. "I can't." 

"Why not?" 

Clenching his eyes and fists, Angel shakes his head. "Because." 

"That's not an answer."  Spike's tone is sharp, with still that undercurrent of rawness.  Being this close to his Sire just pulls up everything he's tried so hard to cover up. 

"It's the only one I have," Angel replies hoarsely. 

"Well I don't buy it.  I can smell you from here.  I know you want me." 

"Of course I fucking want you!" Angel snaps, his eyes blazing as he turns around to glare at the younger vampire. 

Spike pushes up, resting his hands on the bed behind him as he faces Angel.  "Then take me.  I'm here.  I'm sure you still know how." 

"I've told you, I can't." Angel shakes his head. "And you shouldn't be here." 

"Well I'm here.  And I'm not leaving.  One way or another, Sire, you'll have to touch me.  And you know how our fights usually ended." 

"Fuck!" Angel curses, turning away and throwing himself into a chair. "Stubborn fucking brat." 

Spike has to chuckle darkly at that.  "Now *that* sounds familiar." Angel just gives him a filthy look. Spike decides to up the ante a bit.  "Well, since I'm staying, I might as well get comfortable."  He gets on his knees, facing Angel.  He rubs his hands down himself again, this time not just teasing at the waistband.  He unbuttons the top button of his button-fly jeans.  He knows he could make this happen more easily if he'd use his Seducer aura, but he wants Angel to take him without it.  To admit that he wants him.  

"Wh...what are you doing?" Angel squeaks. 

"Getting comfortable."  Spike unbuttons the next button.  He arches his body, flexing, posing a bit for Angel.  He turns his head a bit, eyes downward, expression softening almost unconsciously.  It's been a long while for him.  With Dru he's always the aggressor.  There's a delicious thrill, knowing he's trying to provoke Angel to take him, to dominate him.  It makes him harden immediately, his cock pressing against the tight jeans. 

Swallowing a whimper, Angel covers the eyes that he can't drag away from Spike. Clearing his throat, he tries to distract himself with conversation. "How did you know where I was?" 

"Your Sire called me."  Spike stops unbuttoning.  He wants Angel to watch that.  Instead he just strokes his hand over his own shaft, rocking his hips.  

"She what?" Angel yelps, dropping his hand, to stare at him, horrified. 

"She called me.  None of us knew where you were before.  You disappeared after that time in the sub.  No one heard of you.  Not til you showed up here in her town." 

"Her town?" Angel asks with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "What about that - I mean her sire?" 

Spike chuckles.  "The Master is trapped.  He can give orders but she's the one taking care of things.  Besides, I never answered to him.  No more than you ever did."  Angel snorts at the very implication of him obeying that bat-faced bastard. 

At the same time though he's shocked at the thought that its Darla running the Hellmouth, he'd had no idea. Spike unbuttons another button, now that Angel is looking his direction again.  "I dropped everything and came here when she called."  

"Did you?" Angel promptly covers his eyes again. 

"Yeah.  Been looking for news of you for a while.  There was a rumor about you in Vegas in the sixties, but you weren't there by the time I managed to get across to the States."  With three buttons undone, the purplish head of Spike's cock is clearly visible, and he strokes fingers across it, letting out a moan. 

"Um." Angel shudders a little at Spike's moan. "I wasn't there very long." 

"Yeah.  So we found out.  We stayed here a long while after.  We were even at Woodstock."  Spike doesn't stop his methodical, slow self-caresses.  "Didn't head back to Europe til the late seventies.  Kept hoping to find you." 

"Oh?" Angel shudders at the thought of Spike or Dru finding him in LA, and the state he was in. 

Spike unbuttons another button.  "I want you, Sire.  You'd better come up with a really good reason if you want me to stop this." 

"Er...I said no?" Angel suggests weakly. 

Spike laughs.  "You taught me perfectly well that doesn't mean shit.  No never means no.  It means try harder, or else take what you want, consequences be damned." Angel whimpers slightly pathetically. He's spent all week fighting off a nascent erection due to Darla's visit, and now he's being tormented by Spike offering himself. 

Unsurprisingly his erection is no longer nascent, more rampant. Spike unbuttons the last button.  Angel keeps covering his eyes, so Spike knows he'll have to be more direct.  He stands up, sliding down the jeans, completely naked now.  He stalks over to Angel, climbing onto the chair, knees on either side of Angel's thighs, straddling him.  For the moment he's not touching him other than with his legs.  His hand drops back to start stroking himself, close enough Angel can hear the sound of flesh on flesh.  

Whimpering again, Angel shivers with an aching desperation to grab Spike and devour him. He takes a deep breath to beg Spike to get off him when he freezes. He can smell Darla. Oh, he could smell her scent already, lingering faintly in the apartment, and more strongly on Spike's skin; But now...Angel shudders in reaction. Its not just her scent mingling with Dru's and with Spike's now. 

No, now her can smell her desire mingled with Spike's. His sire has fucked his child. He opens his eyes to stare at Spike in both agonized jealousy and angry possessiveness. Spike holds Angel's eyes.  He can see the look there, he knows it well.  Any time that Darla used him, Angelus would have that look, would grab and fuck and abuse Spike until he'd 'reclaimed' him.  Spike let his gaze be direct, challenging him, daring him to take him.  

Forcing his gaze from Spike's blue eyes, Angel gets as far as Spike's pale neck before he freezes again. Much as he'd always hated Spike and Darla sharing their bodies with each other, it was always somehow worse when she'd drink from him. Spike never stops his stroking.  "Something wrong, Sire?"  His tone is mocking, sarcastic, provocative. 

Angel's eyes snap back to his as his lips draw back to bare his teeth. "No. Fucking. Way." He snarls. "She fucking did not." 

"Didn't what, Sire?"  Spike licks his lips, knowing perfectly well what has Angel so upset. 

Within seconds, Angel has exploded out of the chair, throwing Spike back onto the bed and pounced on him, burying his fangs in the younger vampire's neck. He drinks roughly, cruelly. He always used to be gentle when drinking from his Sweet William, but this time...It's like he's forcefully trying to draw the essence of Darla's blood out of Spike's body. The blood he could smell on Spike's breath; the blood that he was so very rarely allowed so much as a sip of. 

Spike whimpers, arching his neck submissively.  The roughness thrills him, the pain sweet and oh-so-desired.  It's been so long, and he wants his Sire to possess him.  To take him.  

Soon his instincts kick in and Angel slows his feeding. But he's so caught up in the taste of Spike's sweet blood and the hints of Darla, Drusilla, his eldest childe Penn's, and even the only once-tasted blood of his youngest, unknown, childe blended within; so caught up in the feel of his and Spike's blood bond slamming wide open and back into place, he's unaware of what his body is doing. 

His hands are cupped beneath Spike's thighs where he's holding them up and apart, his clothed groin pressed hard against Spike's naked one, grinding down into him. Spike feels the bridge between ripped brutally open, Angel's fangs in his making scars.  Like Angel, he's almost overwhelmed by the sensations. His body remembers what to do, though, and his hands slide down to start undoing Angel's trousers.  

Mind swimming, Angel shudders and growls, his tongue working at the skin around his fangs, throat working in slow swallows. Spike's rich blood flows thickly down his throat and into his stomach, warming his body. He hasn't felt this feeding warmth for decades, and the blazing fire of feeding from family for decades longer. He can feel his body tingling as if it’s coming alive after a long hibernation. His demon is exultant as it renews its bond with the demon within Spike. That part of his mind that he calls Angelus is whispering to him. 

Spike's body is working on automatic, intent on removing the barriers between them.  His Sire is there, the demons within them tangled together, writhing, coupling, making the most of what time they will have to touch directly.  It's been far too long, too long, and Spike aches with the raw need in him to have this go on and on.  He pushes down Angel's trousers, rips at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin, pull them closer, rip down every last wall. 

Angel growls low in his throat, the sound of ripping fabric barely registering, his claws dragging along the skin of Spike's thighs. Spike moans and makes soft submissive noises.  He knows they'll rouse the demon more, pull his Sire closer to him.  There's nothing else for him right now, nothing beyond their flesh and demons, nothing but blood and need and desire.  He knows he'll be bloodied and torn before this is over and he wants it.  Wants to feel his Sire mark him all over again.  

Flipping them over, Angel keeps his fangs embedded in Spike's neck as he pulls their hips into position, his clawed fingers moving upwards along the curve of Spike's arse. Spike whimpers and lets out a low, soft groan, lifting his ass, spreading his legs further apart.  

There don't need to be any words right now, not yet.  Just flesh and blood between them.  He'd prepared for this, lubed himself before he came here, but Angel is still probably going to tear him open.  He hasn't had anyone else inside him in many, many years.  Spike's shift allows Angel's cock to nudge between the cheeks of his arse, prodding at his opening. 

Rocking his hips, Angel repeatedly presses at the ring of muscles in an unconscious tease. Spike whines.  This is his Sire, going from urgent vicious taking to cruel teasing in a few moments time.  Spike is quivering with need, rocking up, trying to tempt Angel to press into him.  

Pulling away from the curve of Spike's neck with a groan, Angel pants for a few moments. He's far too gone to stop this, far too gone to want to stop it, too far to even care. "Childe." He growls. 

"Sire," Spike rasps back in response.   "Please.  Please." 

"Take me inside." Angel instructs hoarsely. "I want to feel that tight little arse around my cock." Spike nods and groans, pushing back against Angel.  Slowly, like this, he can let himself adjust, his muscles and tissues stretching tight over Angel's cock.  He pants, waves of pain and pleasure washing over him.  He'd forgotten what this felt like.  

"Yesss." Angel hisses, fingers tightening cruelly on Spike's hips. Spike gasps at that, more at the possessiveness than the pain.  He shoves himself back now, pressing all the way down, feeling Angel buried deep inside him.  There's a flash of pain but he's there.  "Jesus Christ." Angel curses fervently. 

Spike chuckles harshly.  "No, God.  You are my God, still, Sire."  

"Am I?" Angel gasps. 

"Yes."   Spike moans and clenches down with his muscles, caressing Angel's cock inside him.  "I am your fervent worshipper.  All yours." 

"Oh fuck me." Angel's eyes roll as Spike's channel clamps down on him. 

Spike chuckles again.  "As you wish."  He slides forward a few inches, then back hard, feeling Angel deep in him.  He keeps moving, feeling Angel inside him, never letting too much of him go before rocking down again. 

"Gah!" Angel gurgles. Spike can feel Angel over him, his weight pressed against him, fingers digging into his hips.  He keeps moving. Harder.  Faster.  Need getting sharper.  Their demons sing against their skin where they touch, electric contact, sparking between them.  Angel is taking him, but making him work for it, participate in it, completely surrender himself. 

Groaning, Angel starts to talk, a mixture of filth and endearments. "Yes, oh yes. My boy, my sweet childe; my dirty little whore; oh yes so good; so beautiful riding my cock." 

Spike groans and whimpers.  "Yes, bloody hell yes, your whore, your boy, your childe.  Need you, crave you.   Ohhh fuck."  He slams now, knowing there will be pain, not caring.  

"Fuck, yes!" Angel growls, his hips bucking up to meet each of Spike's downwards thrusts. "Good boy; mo cruidhe; take Daddy's cock; so sweet my boy; filthy little slut. Take it." 

Spike is boneless now, his body moving automatically, clinging to Angel as he thrusts harder and faster.  His whole body screams submission to his Sire. Angel groans, throat tight with need and desire. 

His head snaps back and he howls as his body powers forward one last time, his cum shooting from his spasming cock. Spike clenches down, milking every last drop of cum from Angel's cock.  He  doesn't want this to end, this connection between them.  He moans softly as he feels Angel's last spasm. 

Shuddering, Angel goes limp, dropping down heavily onto Spike. Spike purrs softly and squirms under Angel's weight. "Oh fuck." Angel groans, face pressed to the pillow beside Spike's head. 

"Sire," Spike whispers softly.  "I take it you're not kicking me out just yet?" 

"Hmm? No." Angel murmurs. He lifts his head to look down into Spike's face. A hand comes up to stroke one sharp cheekbone. 

Spike rubs against Angel's hand.  "Good.  Not going anywhere." Angel smiles and presses a kiss to his forehead. Spike purrs and blinks sleepily.  

Another kiss is pressed to Spike's cheek before Angel rubs his lips gently against his. Spike moans softly into the kiss, pushing up to meet Angel's mouth.  "I'm sleeping here in your bed tonight," Spike says, his tone cheekily assured. 

"Ok." Angel replies with a short laugh. Truth is, he's too sated and happy to argue. Spike wriggles a bit, pulling covers over them both.  He snuggles in closer, nuzzling against Angel's chest, eyes closing.  The wild feeding and the brutal and passionate connection of their demons have worn him out more than he expected. 

With a sigh and a fond smile, Angel wraps an arm around him. Part of him is wondering what the hell he's doing, but he pushes it aside for now. Spike closes his eyes, letting himself slip gently into sleep.  He feels safe, and at home in a way he hadn't thought he would feel. 

Stroking a gently hand up and down, Angel lets himself relax, dropping into a happy doze. He can't believe that after all these years, he's lying here with Spike in his arms once more. 

Later that night, the silence is broken by a lightning strike outside. Angel wakes with a start and gasps for air as he sits up. "Ahh!" He gets up from the bed and hurries off. He pulls on his clothes, and crashes through the door into the rain. He runs into a nearby ally, stumbling over some trashcans and falling to the pavement. He cries out in pain and fear. "Spike!" 

Back in Angel's apartment, Spike stirs in his bed and reaches over for him. He opens his eyes, suddenly wide awake when he doesn't find him there and looks around. He sits up in bed. Outside it's still raining hard, and lightning strikes. He looks around the room again, but Angel is nowhere to be seen. "Angel?" 

Back outside to the alley, the rain has suddenly let up. Angel falls to the pavement and props himself up on his hands. "Spike..." He can't hold himself up and collapses to the ground. His voice sounds frightened now. "Oh no." 

A hooker standing in a doorway sees him and slowly walks over to him. "Hey. You okay?" She bends down to look at him. "You want me to call 911?" 

Angel suddenly stands up. "No. The pain is gone." 

The hooker asks, "You sure?"

Angel responds, "Yeah." He spins around, game face on, grabs her and violently bites her on the neck to feed. He drops her dead body, tilts his head up and blows out the smoke he's just inhaled through her neck from her lungs.  
"I feel just fine." 

Spike opens the door to Darla's room with a heavy sigh, looking defeated, and a little bedraggled from the rain.  

Looking up from her magazine, Darla takes in his appearance before tossing it aside. She comes over to him, reaching up to cup his cheek. "Oh my Darling." 

“I failed.” Spike presses into her hand.  "At least I think I did.  I got him into bed but I woke up and he was gone.  Must be that damn soul of his.  Probably felt guilty for screwing me into the mattress." Darla makes a sound of sympathy, before leading him further into the room. 

"That filthy soul." She sneers. Spike growls just a little at that, and nods.  

"I could have sworn I had him.  It felt just like before."  He walks with her into the room, stripping off his wet clothes as he goes, crawling into the bed.  

"I know. It did to me last week." Darla sighs, fetching him a luxurious towel. "If only there was a way to get rid of that horrid soul, we wouldn't have to try and get around it at all." Spike towels off the wetness clinging to his skin, and pulls Darla to him.  

"It worked so well, dammit.  The minute he smelled your blood on my lips, he shoved me onto the bed.  It was brilliant.  Fucking soul."  He buries his face against her neck, pushing in, curling against her.  She holds him for a long moment, stroking her hands over his shoulders, before urging him beneath the thick covers of her bed. Spike obligingly crawls under the covers, trying to pull Darla with him.  He is needy and clingy right now, he knows.  Pathetic.  But Darla is family. 

Shrugging off her dressing gown, Darla slides under the quilt with him, allowing him to curl close. She knows exactly how he feels. It's that same feeling of loss and rejection that sent her crawling into Luke's bed for the first time in over twenty years. Spike purrs softly, pressing against her, taking in her scent.  

"I can't stand it.  It's worse than if he died.  I can see him, touch him, and it's still like he's being kept from us.  I know why you din't tell me and Dru before." 

Pressing soft little kisses over his face, Darla strokes her hands over his skin in soothing patterns. "You're right, it’s exactly like that." She purrs back, a soft sound to offer and seek comfort. "There's got to be a way to get rid of it. We can start looking into it, or maybe Dru can tell us something." 

"Yeah.  There has to be some way."  Spike keeps purring against her skin, letting her closeness comfort him.  

"In the meantime, we'll just have to keep trying." She tries to sound hopeful, but the whole situation is just too depressing. 

Spike nods.  "Maybe double-team him next time."  He  chuckles a little ruefully at that.  

"Maybe." Darla nods with a small grin. 

Sighing, she pulls him closer, wrapping a leg over his. She continues to kiss and nuzzle and stroke at him, purring all the while. Spike returns her kisses.  The scent of Angel is still strong on him, even after being rain-soaked, and he can almost imagine the three of them here in bed together.  There's a little surge of arousal at that and he kisses her a little more passionately. 

With a soft moan, Darla sinks into the kiss. It turns languid, full of a slow burning heat, as the kiss goes on and on. 

With an almighty bang, the door to Darla's rooms slams open, and they jump apart. 

Spike growls softly.  "Who is it?" Darla sits up slowly, ready to put the interloper in their place, but she freezes. 

There framed in the doorway is Angel and Darla is unable to hide her surprise. Spike's head whips around to stare. 

Dressed from head to toe in his usual black, Angel stares impassively at them, eyes flicking from one to the other. He may be wearing black as usual, but the leather trousers and coat and silk shirt are not as expected. 

Spike takes in a deep breath, scenting.  Something is off.  "Sire?" 

Impassive still, Angel just looks back at his childe for a long, painful moment before his gaze turns to Darla. Holding her eyes, Angel's stony face twists into a wicked smirk. "Hi Honey, I'm home."


End file.
